


Proving A Hypothesis

by brokenstitches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, One Shot, Romance, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenstitches/pseuds/brokenstitches
Summary: Hermione is Luna's wingwoman at a fundraiser for the Golden Snidget. But she's finding it hard to be a wingwoman to someone who is constantly disappearing, leaving her alone with none other than Draco Malfoy for company. Fluffy Oneshot - COMPLETE
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Rolf Scamander
Comments: 13
Kudos: 131





	Proving A Hypothesis

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I’ve picked up the figurative pen after an eleven-year hiatus! I’ve been a long time Dramione fic reader, but this is my first fic I’ve written about the pair. Do review and let me know what you think!

Proving A Hypothesis

Hermione stifled a yawn behind her hand, nearly bored to tears at the stuffy fundraiser she now regretted agreeing to attend with Luna.

She blamed all the wine she had had at the Potters’ last week, during the party for baby James’ first birthday.

Normally when faced with the prospect of awkward small talk with strangers, Hermione would retreat to the familiarity of her best friends. However, it wasn’t the best time to be bothering Harry and Ginny, who were looking increasingly frazzled as they juggled hosting a house packed with extended Weasley relatives and having their hands full with their toddler. Ron was busy at the joke shop with the launch of a new product and wasn’t due to arrive until much later.

So she found herself alone, perched on the end of the sofa in the sitting room, clutching her glass of wine like it was a lifeline as she politely fielded questions from Ginny’s aunts on when she was going to find a nice boy to settle down with and pop out a friend or two for baby James.

Three glasses of wine and many more prying questions later, Hermione could have almost wept with relief when she saw Luna enter the room in robes of bright emerald and magenta, oblivious to the disgruntled mutterings of the elderly relatives who had, for some reason, taken offence with the clashing colours.

Hermione tackled Luna in a fierce hug, pulling her away to a quiet corner of the room to get away from Ginny’s Great Aunt Octavia so she could catch up with her ever-travelling friend.

It had been almost a year since she had seen Luna, who had just come back to Britain after spending time in North America tracking the elusive Re’em, a rare magical beast resembling a giant golden ox, and Hermione noted that her eccentricities had mellowed somewhat since they had last met.

She was undoubtedly still a bit of an oddball though; her birthday present for James was a necklace made of dried ague root, which she claimed had protective qualities.

A couple more glasses of wine later and she was shrieking with laughter at Luna’s tale of when she was observing the mating habits of the foul-mouthed Jarvey during her travels to Belfast.

“Well, just remember that back then I wasn’t an expert yet in mating rituals... If I had known that they were attracted to the scent of lilies I would’ve forgone my perfume that day. There were probably several ways that could’ve gone better,” Luna admitted serenely. “I wonder how Rolf would’ve handled it.”

“Rolf? Rolf Scamander?” Hermione’s ears pricked up at the familiar name and she recalled images of a sandy-haired, lanky wizard that always accompanied the articles in the Daily Prophet about the famous Magizoologist with an even more famous grandfather.

“Mm yes. He’s got such a brilliant mind,” Luna replied dreamily. “And such a natural with the creatures... But it runs in his blood I suppose.”

Hermione may have been tipsy, but she wasn’t blind to how Luna was so obviously enamoured with Rolf.

“You’re surrounded by magical creatures or in the middle of the wilderness most of the time and somehow still manage to find someone intelligent and interesting to talk to. I’d be lucky if I could get Arnold from Accounts to stop using my name to make knee puns whenever he talks to me,” she sighed.

Luna laughed and there was a pleasant lull in the conversation as she sipped her Gillywater thoughtfully.

“Anyway,” Hermione continued brightly. “What with both of you being in the same field and all, I’m sure the opportunity to bump into Rolf will come up sooner or later.”

Luna looked up from her glass, eyes flashing like she had just had an idea, and turned to Hermione with a big smile on her face. 

“Actually,” she said. “I think I heard he would be at a fundraiser next Saturday, for the conservation of the endangered Golden Snidget. I’d usually ask Ginny to come with me, but now that James is here and all...”

With many glasses of the Potters’ excellent wine in her, Hermione found herself eagerly offering to accompany Luna instead, proclaiming she’d make a great wingwoman.

Now that she was actually at the fundraiser, she was regretting her enthusiasm under the influence of alcohol. Luna had left her side soon after they had arrived, presumably roaming the ballroom looking for Rolf, and Hermione was alternating between being incredibly bored and having to talk to wizards who seemed – to her – to be in some unspoken competition to be more repulsive than the next.

To be fair to the wizard she currently found herself in conversation with, Hermione would have usually been interested in learning about the myriad magical creatures in the Wizarding world.

However, having read all about the Golden Snidget back when she was a first year at Hogwarts and having a rather decent familiarity of Quidditch after being surrounded by fanatics like Harry and the Weasleys growing up, she was now straining to remain polite to the son of the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports as he spouted blatantly incorrect facts.

It didn’t help that he had (mistakenly) thought she would be fascinated with the barbaric practice of releasing and capturing the fragile bird during Quidditch matches.

“And – you might not know this – but they actually used to use Golden Snidgets instead of Snitches in Quidditch. Imagine that! The first one was released in 1296 by none other than an ancestor of mine,” the wizard was saying, puffing out his chest proudly.

“Actually, I think it was _1269_ –,” Hermione began to say, the thin smile she had plastered on her face not quite reaching her eyes.

“Ah Miss Granger, no offence but I probably know a bit more about Quidditch than you do; I think I would know my dates!” the wizard cut her off, chortling as he waved his goblet merrily in the air to emphasise his point. He didn’t seem to care that wine was sloshing messily down his front, joining the various other food stains on his robes.

“And obviously, _obviously_ , I’m not suggesting we go back to using these birds... But also, wouldn’t a tiny part of you have loved to watch a match with these back then? What a sight it would’ve been eh?” he continued, completely missing the look of disgust on Hermione’s face that she wasn’t bothering to hide any longer.

Her eyes were narrowing dangerously; son of a Ministry official or not, she was going to burst if she didn’t give him a piece of her mind.

“There you are,” Luna said, suddenly appearing by Hermione’s side. She glanced at the wizard as if only just noticing him. “Oh hello, you’re Timothy Slimp, aren’t you? I was wondering who Hermione was talking to that was putting that expression on her face. I’m going to steal her away now. Bye!” she said easily, looping her arm through Hermione’s and steering her away before Slimp could respond.

Hermione waited until they were out of earshot before turning to Luna. “Ugh! How can there be so many insufferable men here? Slimp was the third one this evening who has all but explicitly said that he’d love for Snidgets to be brought back to Quidditch. When we’re at a fundraiser for the poor creatures!”

She was getting more and more exasperated as she ranted; Luna remained unruffled as she listened patiently.

“Sorry, Hermione,” Luna said earnestly. “It does seem terribly inconvenient how you seem to be crossing paths with all these men tonight... But I do hope you’ll stay for a little bit longer.”

She trailed off as she looked around the room, “He has to turn up soon...”

Hermione looked at the expectant look on her friend’s face, and felt her irritation melt away instantly, remembering the reason why she was at the fundraiser to begin with.

“Oh, well, it’s not that bad, Luna,” she hastened to say. “It’s been great to see such a good turnout tonight, even if some of the guests are a tad… grating. And I suppose it’s fun to get dressed up every now and again – remind me later to thank Ginny for the dress.”

She ran her hands over the black chiffon gown she had borrowed from Ginny, who was only too excited to live vicariously through Hermione while she stayed at home with her toddler. She had then sat good-naturedly for another half an hour, allowing Ginny to wrestle her hair into a chic bun.

That was an hour and a half ago though, and Hermione could feel tendrils gradually come loose as the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion wore off. Distractedly tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she eyed a passing tray of canapes.

“Thank Merlin, I’m starving,” she said, snagging one from the tray and popping it into her mouth.

She scrunched up her nose. It was revolting.

Luna, who had been staring into the distance over Hermione’s shoulder, refocused her attention when Hermione coughed as she tried to swallow the horrid morsel.

“Wait here, I’ll get you something to wash that down. Be right back!” she said, bounding off in the direction of the bar.

Grabbing a napkin off a nearby cocktail table, Hermione turned away to discreetly spit out the remnants of the canape, before quickly wadding the napkin up and Vanishing it with a non-verbal spell.

“Granger?”

Hermione twisted round to see Draco Malfoy standing by the cocktail table, drink in hand and a curious look on his face.

“Draco! Hi! It’s erm, good to see you outside of the Ministry. I didn’t think I’d see you here,” she said, self-consciously smoothing her hair back and hoping he hadn’t caught her spitting earlier.

“Well, my mother’s been quite the donor to various charities ever since the end of the war. Unfortunately, she had other matters to attend to and so I get this wonderful opportunity to play dress up and represent her tonight,” he said dryly, spreading his arms as if to show off his outfit.

Draco was dressed, as he usually was, in sleek dark robes. Tonight, he was head to toe in nondescript black, save for a glittering gold pin in the shape of the Golden Snidget that he had fastened on his lapel.

Hermione had the feeling he was trying not to stand out. After all, it was precisely what she was trying to do. It was just a bit harder to do with everyone eager to be seen talking to one-third of the Golden Trio.

“Not a fan of these events?” Hermione asked, smiling as she caught his sarcasm. “Me neither, to be honest.”

“Really?” Draco said, interestedly, a half-smile on his face as he took a sip of his drink. “I would’ve thought this was right up your alley, you being the champion of the vulnerable and downtrodden and all.”

She laughed at his teasing tone. There was just something about having a shared past that created an instant connection between two people, even if that past involved them being on opposite sides of a war when they were back at school. It seemed almost a lifetime ago now, and over the years they had graduated to a mutual respect and friendliness when they ran into each other at the Ministry where they both worked, although he still insisted on calling her by her last name.

“Mm, well, yes... But I’m quite happy to champion their causes without needing to attend the party to make small talk with people, some of whom are capable of making one feel quite uncharitable,” she frowned as she recalled her conversation with Slimp.

“I suppose big gatherings just bring out the introvert in me,” she continued, shrugging.

“I see. And of course, the food at these things is usually terrible,” Draco said lightly. He leaned in and lowered his voice, “Word of advice, don’t try the grey stuff. _Not_ delicious.”

“Yes! Where were you five minutes ago?” Hermione exclaimed. She mirrored him and leaned in too, whispering conspiratorially, “I spat it out and Vanished it literally moments before you showed up.”

“You? Spat it out and Vanished it?” Draco repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Huh.”

He was silent for a moment as he regarded the crowded ballroom. Hermione thought she might have disgusted him with talk of her spitting out chewed up food – he was probably raised to find this behaviour unseemly – and was about to change the subject when he spoke up again.

“I wish I’d thought of that.”

Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes wide at the implication.

“Mine’s wrapped up in my second-best handkerchief and hidden behind that plant beside the stage,” he said nonchalantly.

She gaped at his admission, her surprised brown eyes meeting his twinkling grey ones. Hermione could see Draco trying to keep a straight face and she did her best to do the same, pursing her lips to stop from smiling.

The corner of his mouth twitched and Hermione lost it, bursting out in laughter that drew several pairs of curious eyes in their direction. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Draco’s shoulders shake as he unsuccessfully tried to contain his laughter.

When she finally controlled her giggles, Draco was watching her with a look of amusement on his face.

“That was awfully loud for an introvert,” he said, smirking.

Hermione had forgotten they were still in the middle of the fundraiser. She glanced around and saw that they had gotten some attention from the guests standing nearby. She flushed, mortified, and covered her face with her hands.

“Are they still staring?” she mumbled from behind her hands, groaning when Draco hummed in affirmation.

“But then again, if it were me, I’d be staring at you too,” he said casually.

Hermione froze, her hands still over her face. Was she supposed to have heard that? Her mind went into overdrive, wondering what he could’ve meant.

After a beat, he cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been incredibly rude to not have asked if you wanted a drink. Let me remedy that.”

She peeked between her fingers and saw him set his tumbler down on the table as he made to walk to the bar. Hermione reflexively reached out and placed a hand on his forearm to stop him.

Draco stilled, his eyes dropping to her hand resting on his arm.

“No, wait, don’t trouble yourself! Luna was ordering one for me… This must be it,” she said, as she spied a bright pink cocktail floating towards them as if on cue.

Luna was still nowhere in sight, but Hermione assumed the tall fluted glass was for her as it hovered in front of her until she accepted it. So preoccupied was she at making sure she didn’t spill the drink that she missed the way Draco’s eyes followed her hand as she took it off his arm.

“Perfect. _Santé_ ,” he said, gently touching his glass against hers with a soft clink, holding her gaze as he drank.

There was an intensity in his eyes that made Hermione’s heart drum a little faster. She averted her eyes and took a gulp of her drink to steady the sudden nerves that Draco had stirred up.

The sharp tang of licorice flooded her mouth and she made a face, silently berating herself for trusting Luna “Dirigible Plums-For-Earrings” Lovegood to order her a normal drink.

“Granger? Is something the matter?” Draco asked, noticing her grimace.

“Hm? No, everything’s fine,” Hermione said, not wanting to make a fuss over nothing. She gingerly took another sip in the hopes that the flavour would grow on her.

She wrinkled her nose. Nope, she still hated licorice.

“Granger,” Draco said again, this time a statement rather than a question.

Hermione sighed and pushed her glass towards him, an unspoken invitation for him to try her drink.

“Well? Isn’t it terrible?” Hermione asked the moment he had swallowed. She was curious to know what he thought and his impassive expression wasn’t giving anything away.

Draco chuckled at her impatience. “It’s... fine. Here, why don’t you take my drink instead, and I’ll have yours,” he offered.

When she didn’t immediately take his glass, he insisted he didn’t mind the swap, saying that she seemed like she needed a good drink more than he did. Surprised at the thoughtful gesture, Hermione accepted his tumbler of amber liquid gratefully.

Her fingers brushed against his in the exchange and she felt a tingling sensation settle in her belly and her face grew warm at the thought of how Draco Malfoy, of all people, was affecting her in this way. She didn’t dare to look at him in case he could read it all over her face, and kept her eyes low as she sipped from his glass.

The heat from the Firewhisky sliding down her throat was a good distraction and she closed her eyes in satisfaction, licking her lips with a contented hum.

Beside her, Draco raised the tall glass to take a swig of his new drink. Perhaps he had misjudged the angle of the new glass or perhaps he had been staring a little too long when Hermione’s tongue had darted out to lick her lips…

“Ahh!”

Hermione jumped back instinctively when she felt something splash on her. She turned to see Draco looking down at his soaking wet shirt, a sheepish expression on his face replacing his usual air of confidence. Pink droplets were dripping from him onto the plush carpet under his feet.

She snapped into action, seizing the stack of napkins from the cocktail table and hastily tried to help dab his shirt dry. Her hand met with Draco’s very firm, very taut torso and she felt her face go warm again.

In a few short seconds, she had accumulated a pile of pink-stained napkins when Draco gently grabbed her hand to still its path to his chest.

“Granger.”

Hermione looked up at Draco. He looked like he was trying not to smile as he lifted his wand and waved it to clean himself up as well as anything that might have splattered on her dress.

So much for being the cleverest witch of her age. How could she have forgotten she could use magic? She went red with embarrassment, feeling ridiculous for pawing at him in front of everyone.

He was still holding her hand and Hermione was now acutely aware of how intimate this felt. He was so close she could smell the pleasantly earthy scent of his cologne. Her hand felt so small in his and the warmth of his hand enveloping hers seemed to spread throughout her entire body.

Draco slowly raised his other hand to her face and brushed his thumb across her cheek softly, wiping away a drop on her face that he had missed. Her eyes fluttered at his touch and she didn’t dare move; her heart thrummed so loudly it drowned out the noise of the party surrounding them.

She could feel his dark grey eyes study her for a moment before he released her hand, clearing his throat.

“Well. I suppose that’s as good a sign as any that I should call it a night.”

Hermione felt a sense of loss as he took a step away from her. Her evening had become significantly more enjoyable with Draco and she’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want to spend more time with him.

“Right. Of course. Um, I guess I’ll see you back at work?” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear again and trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Draco cleared his throat again. “Although… I’m still pretty hungry. I know a place that does great pasta at this time of the night. Would you like to join me?”

“I err...” Hermione faltered. She remembered Luna and turned around to look for her, feeling guilty that she had abandoned her to spend most of the evening with Draco instead.

She spied Luna in the corner of the room talking to a tall man with sandy brown hair she recognised as Rolf. She was thrilled for her friend; Luna clearly didn’t need her help after all.

Hermione turned back to Draco, who had been waiting for her reply with a hopeful look in his eyes.

She took his proffered arm and beamed up at him.

“Pasta sounds fantastic.”

***

Luna watched Draco and Hermione leave the ballroom together, a secret smile on her face.

“I know that smile. What have you been up to, my little pixie?” Rolf Scamander asked his girlfriend, pulling her towards him.

"Nothing, my love," Luna replied innocently. "I was just testing my latest hypothesis on attraction."

She wrapped her arms around Rolf with a satisfied sigh.

"I do love when I'm proven right."


End file.
